And Now, He Was Alone
by SilverShoes17
Summary: "This boy's real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother's deceased. His father's a convict in the state penitentiary." Rated for implied abuse/rape, & character deaths. I know, the title is totally lame. Reviews are cool.


**Disclaimer: Seriously? You need to ask?**

**FIRST NEWSIES FIC!**

**So it's a modern day story, but in flashbacks. I had this idea of giving Jack's parents a back story, other than the brief statement we hear in the movie, so I just went with it and I think it turned out bloody brilliant (hehe, english accent) when I finished it. Sorry if it seems choppy/random. And I kind of teared up when I did my final check over it, so be prepared if you cry easily.**

**And I know the title is lame, get over it.**

**Rated for language, implied abuse/rape, and character deaths.**

**Now, without further adieu...**

**"And Now, He Was Alone"**

"This boy's real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother's deceased. His father's a convict in the state penitentiary."

He looked down at the two gravestones, both adorned with the flowers he had just set down. In between them was a statue of a mother holding her baby, looking down on it lovingly. He felt a tear slide down his face as he unsuccessfully fought back memories.

* * *

_"Mommy?," 5 year old Frankie asked, noticing his mother's tears, along with a hand shaped red mark on the young woman's face. "Are you okay?_

_"Yes sweetie," Kelly Sullivan lied as she carried her sleepy son to his room. "I'm fine." Paul had hit her. Again. But she couldn't let her son see her pain. She put on a smile. "Now, how about I read you a bedtime story?" The boy just smiled. She mirrored his expression as best as she could. "Alright, go pick one out." She set him down and he scurried to the tiny bookshelf. She sat on his bed while she waited._

_She wanted so bad to leave, to just take Frankie with her and go far away, where her husband couldn't find her. But they had no money. Even if they did, she had no where to go. Her entire family lived here in New York. She did have an old friend from high school, who had moved to New Mexico, though Kelly doubted she would even recognize her after nearly 7 years._

_"Dis one!" the little boy announced, holding the thin, worn picture book up._

_"Alright," Kelly laughed softly at her son's enthusiasm as he crawled up next to her on the bed. She helped him get situated under the covers to lay down next to her before opening the book and reading. The boy fell asleep before she finished the book. She turned off the lamp, but she didn't get off the bed. She closed her eyes, only to see Paul's angry face. She opened them immediately. She looked down to her son, who was peacefully asleep, completely oblivious to the horrible things that happened in the room right next to his. She put her arms around Frankie, careful not to wake up as she brought him close to her. She stroked his hair as she kissed the top of his head. Tears began to flow freely from her eyes until she fell asleep._

* * *

_Frank smiled as he ran into the endzone. He had just won the game for the Lawrence Middle School Varsity football team. His teammates gathered around him in celebration. Several parents also ran onto the field, raising the 13 year old above the crowd on their shoulders. He searched the crowd for his. They weren't there. He looked into the stands. Again, not there. His eyes randomly travelled to the parking lot, where he saw his mom and his dad by their car. _

_Though he couldn't hear them, he knew they were fighting. They were always fighting. He saw his father grab his mother's arm, quite hard, he judged by the expression on her face. Frank looked away from his parents to his teammates who were all smiling and holding their helmets high. He looked back to see his father and the car gone. Kelly had her face in her hands. She brought them away, her cheeks a splotchy red. Frank tried to get down from his place above the crowd. Once he was on the ground, he made his way through the mess of people. He ran past the stands and out the wire gate to his mother, who quickly wiped her face dry when she saw her son._

_"Mom?" he said nervously. He knew he didn't need to ask. He got the exact same answer every time. _

_"Yeah, Frankie," she said quietly. "You're father, he just, he had a business call." She lied. And Frank knew she was lying. "So your team is on the way to State now, right?"_

_"I'm not stupid, Mom," he paused when she looked up at him. "I know he's hurting you."_

_"It's not that bad," Kelly lied again, trying to cover a bruise on her forearm. "He doesn't mean it."_

_"If he doesn't mean it then the son of a bitch wouldn't do it," her son growled._

_"Francis Sullivan!" she scolded with her weak voice. "You are not to speak that way about your father!"_

_"It's true!" Frank replied, his voice slightly softer. "You know it. I know it. He even knows it. I just don't get why we, why you, stay here when he's doing this to you."_

_"Believe me," Kelly said, almost laughing at herself. "If I could afford to get us out of here, I would."_

_Frank took his mother's statement very seriously. That summer, he got a job bagging groceries at the general store. He knew it wouldn't be much, but it might at least be enough to get bus tickets for them, or even just her. Kelly needed to escape more than Frank did. Not once had Frank ever felt the physical pain of abuse from his father that his mother had felt almost daily. _

_And Frank could, and would, were he given the chance, fight back. _

_Kelly could not, she was too broken._

* * *

_Kelly's stomach was swollen with the baby girl that had been growing inside her for 5 months. Frank wondered if his sister would ever find out that she was only in this world because of a violent, painful battle of power. There had been fewer fights as of recent, probably due to her baby bump becoming so prominent. But Frank still heard his mother crying nearly every night after his father was passed out drunk on the couch. Frank knew for a fact that her tears were not due to her pregnancy._

_Kelly was scared. Scared for the baby to be born. She didn't want to even bring the girl into the world, into their family. It wasn't safe._

_She had dreamed of leaving so many times. Certainly people would take pity on a pregnant woman and her 14 year old son. Anywhere was safer than here, where not only was Kelly's life in danger whenever Paul hit her, but the baby's was as well._

* * *

_Two months until the baby was due. Kelly had already named her, Jacklynn. The physical abuse had decreased, but the same could not be said about the emotional. Though her outer bruises had faded, fresh inner ones were made each day. Like he had since before he could remember, Frank fell asleep to the sound of his mother's soft weeping through the thin walls. He knew her fear grew with each day. Fear for her little Jacklynn, who she already loved so much. _

_He heard her whisper "I'm sorry, Jackie," to her stomach. Kelly already felt guilty for being the girl's mother._

_Frank had gotten another job this year, this time as a busboy at a restaurant. He managed to balance it with school during the fall, though school had become less and less important with each paycheck. Around 3 months ago, he had gotten enough money to get Kelly a bus ticket. He approached her with it, urging her to leave and save the baby. But Kelly wouldn't leave without him. Frank cleaned tables while his mother stayed home while Paul did God knows what. Frank felt guilty that he had to leave Kelly alone with him, but she wouldn't let herself escape if her son was not by her side. He was her only family._

_He had taken numerous hours of overtime shifts to be sure he would have enough money before Jacklynn was born. Frank and Kelly needed to be as far away from his father as possible. With the money he could get in a matter of two more weeks, they could both go to Santa Fe. He remembered that she had said she had a high school friend who had moved there. Even if she didn't live there anymore, it was far enough that his drunk, son of a bitch father couldn't find or hurt Kelly. Surely some church or shelter would take them in, and they could rebuild their lives. _

_They could finally be a happy family._

_But that would never be._

_

* * *

"Mom!" Frank called joyously as he walked in the front door of the apartment. He held the final paycheck he needed in his hands. Now they could leave. "Mom, where are you?" he called again. He looked out the window down to the street to see his father's car missing from it's usual spot. He frantically searched through the tiny apartment. He came to the master bedroom and froze. "Mom," he breathed in barely a whisper. "No."_

_Kelly laid there, in the middle of the room, still, in a small pool of blood. One bullet hole in her chest and two more in her stomach. Bloody footprints on the carpet led to the door. Frank ran to his mother. He knew she had been gone for a while, her skin was cold and the blood that had soaked into the carpet around her was dry. The young man cradled his frail, lifeless mother in his arms. He hadn't been able to save her from him. Hot tears flowed from his eyes as he sobbed into her hair. He kept repeating the same phrase, "I'm so sorry Mom," over and over again as he rocked back and forth. He hugged her tightly to him, and remembered Kelly wasn't the only one to die today._

_Jacklynn._

_Paul had shot Jacklynn too. He killed the baby on purpose, as evident by the two bloody wounds on Kelly's abdomen. But was that why he killed Kelly? Frank didn't care. It didn't matter. His mother was gone. They had been each other's only real family. _

_And now, Frank had no one. He was alone._

_It took all his will and strength to just get up off the floor to make the 911 call._

_"My mom has been shot," he said into the receiver, his voice broken through his sobs. "She's dead." He dropped the phone to the ground. _

_He still hadn't moved when he heard the sirens of the police cars, and unnecessary ambulance. They ran into the bedroom and saw the lifeless woman on the ground. Their faces went from blank to sympathetic when they saw Frank standing to the side of the room, tears still flowing from his eyes. One of the female officers walked over to him as the others began to take photos of the scene for evidence. She placed a hand on his shoulder in hopes of giving him some sort of comfort. To her surprise, Frank pulled her to hug him. He needed someone alive to hold him, to allow him to cry. She hugged him back as he cried into the woman's shirt._

_"Shh," the policewoman said as she motioned to the EMTs to remove the body from the room. "It's ok, shh."_

_"N-no, it's not!" Frank said. "I let him do this. I couldn't save her in time." The officer pulled out of his tight grasp at his words._

_"Let who do this?" she asked, holding his shoulders to keep him steady. "Who couldn't you save her from?"_

_"Him," Frank said, soft but strong. "My father." The woman kept one hand on his shoulder as she grabbed her radio with the other. Frank barely understood what she said as she spoke into it. He managed to pick out 'shooter' and 'on the run.'_

_"What's your name, son?" she asked when she clipped the radio back on her belt._

_"Frank, well, Francis...Sullivan," he responded blankly. His eyes lingered on the place where his dead mother used to be._

_"And your mother's name?" she tried to sound as gentle as possible as she conducted the mandatory questioning._

_"Kelly." Tears began to well up in the boy's eyes again._

_"And you said your father did this?" the officer asked. Frank nodded, wiping his face with his forearm. "Do you have any idea of where he might be?"_

_"Probably at the Pub a few blocks over," he said coldly. The officer said something else into her radio._

_"Now, Frank," she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder soothingly as she guided him out of the room. "Do you have anyone you can stay with tonight?"_

_"Yeah," Frank lied. He had no one. The only one he had was in a body bag right now. "I called my mom's friend and she said she'd be here in an hour."_

_"Are you ok by yourself?" the officer asked. Frank nodded. "Are you sure, because you can always come down to the station and wai-"_

_"I'm fine here," Frank interrupted, hoping she would just leave him alone already._

_The officer gave him a sympathetic smile as she let go of his shoulder and left with the others from the 911 call._

_Frank went into his room and slammed the door. He angrily ran his fingers through his hair. He took off his blood stained shirt violently and put on a clean one and a jacket. He went to the closet and grabbed his duffel bag he used for camp a few years ago. He stuffed clothes in it and went to the dresser where he kept the money he had been saving. He gathered all the bills and stuffed them into the envelope that his paycheck had came in. He shoved it into a side pocket of __the duffel and walked out the front door._

* * *

_Frank made his way down the busy New York street. It wasn't odd to see a person walking around with a duffel bag this time of night, many tourists who were just arriving or leaving carried their luggage. But it was odd to see a 15 year old boy, alone, whose face and hair were soaked with sweat and tears, making his way past the mass of people very quickly with his face pointed down. _

_The old man was sitting on a bench outside the small apartment complex he owned in a less populated area of the city. He had been watching the young frustrated-looking boy ever since he turned the corner onto the street. As the the boy got closer, the man noticed his face was stained with tears. The old man stood up._

_"You ok, son?" he asked cautiously as the boy approached him._

_"Fine," Frank said harshly, though he choked on a tear that would have fallen if his eyes were not dried out right now. "What do you care anyways?" He wiped his nose with his jacket sleeve._

_"You don't seem fine, boy," the man replied. "And I'm old. It's my job to care about everything." This made Frank smile slightly. "You got a place to stay tonight?"_

_Frank looked down at his feet nervously. He hadn't really thought about that yet. He was so focused on getting the hell away from that apartment that the immediate future hadn't even crossed his mind._

_"I thought as much," the old man said. "Look here," he pointed to the door of the apartment complex. "I put boys up who don't have no where else to go. Much like yourself. So why don't you stay here, for tonight at least-?" he dragged the last word as a hint for Frank to introduce himself._

_"Jack. Jack Kelly," he spurted out, thinking in less than a millisecond, honoring both his unborn sister and his mother at the same time. He didn't want to even be connected to the name Sullivan anymore, or his paternal grandfather's name. It disgusted him. The name might as well be deleted from his birth certificate for all he cared now._

_"Well, pleased to meet you Jack," the man said. "My name is George Kloppman."_

_"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kloppman," Jack said, shaking his hand. He led Jack inside, leading him up the stairs to the third floor. He opened the door to an empty room, turning on the light, which flickered a few times before brightening the room completely. Jack looked around, taking in the new environment._

_"So the kitchen is down on the first floor," George explained as Jack dropped his duffel bag on the bed. "Bathroom's right down the hall. If you need anything, just yell and one of the boys'll help you out." He went to leave the room._

_"Thanks," Jack replied quietly before the old man closed the door. The man just smiled in response before leaving to walk downstairs. Jack sat on the bed, the old springs creaking. He turned the TV on, desperately needing a distraction from the day's events. He was surprised that the screen actually showed a picture, let alone the anciet. He flipped the channel and nearly choked on nothing at what he saw._

_Live footage of his father, in handcuffs, stumbling out of a bar as he is being led out by 2 police officers and shoved into a squad car. A male reporter came on the screen._

_"Paul Sullivan has been taken into custody just hours after a warrant for his arrest was issued. According to a witness, he is the murderer of his wife, Kelly Sullivan, and therefore her unborn child. Because the baby could have survived at its current stage in development, Sullivan will be charged with a double homicide. His court date is set for next week. Reporting live from-," Jack shut off the TV. He had been caught. His father, the man who ruined his life and ended his mother's and sister's, would be behind bars in a matter of weeks, to rot in prison for what Jack hoped would be a life sentence._

_A week later, Jack read in the paper that his father had been sentenced to 75 years (it was merely a mathematically calculated number based on the judge's ruling though, the man was already 38) in prison with no chance at parol._

_At least he would pay for the pain he caused them, but nothing would bring them back. _

_

* * *

_That's where Jack cut his memory off. He didn't like reliving it when he visited the graves, but, though he's been here numerous times in the past 3 years, he still goes back in time. He collected himself, wiping the tear trails off his face.

"I'm sorry, girls," he said, this time successfully holding back a tear. "I love you both."

And he walked away.

"This boy's real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother's deceased. His father's a convict in the state penitentiary."

* * *

**So there you have it. I felt kind of dark writing this, but I thought it was an interesting story because I don't think it's ever been written about before (in detail) and it is open to almost endless possibilities.**

***random note* So I know that the police would require him to go down to the station with them since he's a minor, so just pretend like you don't watch any cops shows and go with it.**

***random note 2* I also know I basically took the entire refuge thing out. I wanted to get him to the "Newsboys Lodging House" right after he ran away, and there for, he couldn't end up in jail. Again, just go with it.**

***random note 3* I had already written half of this when I realized his name wouldn't be Jack at the time, and then I realized I would need a reason for the name change, and then I had a freaking spazz attack when I thought of the taking his alias from his mother's and sister's names! (His mother's original name was Lisa, and the sister hadn't even been thought of yet) I told you, bloody brilliant!**

***random note 4* It was kind of weird writing from the viewpoint of a 15 year old boy through a traumatic situation, and through the whole story in general (besides when he's 5). It was hard to make him seem vulnerable and scared at the end. Sure, he's a boy, but at 15, he's still a kid, he's going to cry. I also kind of made him protective of his mom (for some reason, Shia LeBeouf's character in Disturbia and Indiana Jones came into my mind. Both movies are amazing, by the way), because she is weak, both physically and emotionally. I thought, because he's a guy, he should feel like he has the responsibility to protect her, being that the man who is _supposed to _protect her in her life is abusing her instead. If it seemed weird, well, it obviously didn't seem too weird if you are on this page long enough to read the ridiculously long 4th random note. **

***random note 5* Sorry for all the random notes. I just sometimes have the need to explain things :)**

** Reviews are cool. This was kind of depressing to write, but as I said before, it was bloody brilliant, so leave me some nice reviews, okay? :)**


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